A Prince and his Preparations
by Kitty.M.Smith
Summary: Collection of one shots that show just what happened to his fire powers, and how his life was before leaving for Arendelle.


**So here it is! First chapter of the short series. The first two chapters will be set up and explanation of Hans's powers being bound in the story. The remaining ones will be more on just Hans growing up up until the point he leaves for Arendelle.**

**For those who didn't really read the description or otherwise: This story is a prequel-ish thing to my fanfiction A Warm Blizzard, which I finished just recently. The fanfiction surrounds Elsa and Hans, mostly, but also does focus on Anna and Kristoff (there is Helsa and Kristanna). If you wanna read it, I reccomend it-you'd understand this one more as it lengthens, I think. Though I don't think you entirely have to - but it might better explain "binding". Either way, it's reccomended and appreciated.**

**So, here you go. :3**

**Hans and the Disney stuff-Disney**

**Anything else, characters, places, and otherwise- MINE, and do not use without my permission.**

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><p>Prince Hans of the Southern Isles was born Hansel Westerguard. Though, only two people knew this. Himself and his mother, who had written the name on his birth certificate shortly after having him.<p>

Being the 13th son of Queen Helen and King George of The Southern Isles, it was to be expected he would be vastly ignored. Being a sum of years younger than the rest of his siblings contributed to this action as well.

This gave young Hans, as this was the only name anyone could remember besides his mother, plenty of free time. Soon as he could walk the young child was running around the palace, a tired nursemaid trailing after him. Well, sometimes. Hans was very good with directions, even from a young age. Therefore, when his nursemaid, who was tired from having chased after 12 princes before him, realized he could navigate by himself without needing any assistance whatsoever, she stopped following him. This gave Hans even more freedom than usual.

By the age of 2 1/2, Hans had discovered something great about himself. When sitting outside of the castle on the typical warm Isles day, Hans had spotted a grasshopper. The child wasn't very fond of grasshoppers, so he stuck his hands in front of him to defend himself from the malicious looking creature. Small jets of flame erupted from his hands and annihilated the grasshopper, much to the young prince's delight. He played with his new found powers a few minutes, scorching the grass but not catching it on fire. When he accidentally blasted his own foot, he found it didn't hurt at all.

Exuberant, Hans toddled rapidly to his mother, the only person in the castle who ever seemed to care.

Unfortunately, when he set fire to the carpet in the parlor, his mother wasn't happy.

In fact, she was terrified. She scooped Hans up in her arms and stamped out the flames while Hans's eyes welled up with tears at his mother's unhappy face. Once she was done she looked around before rushing to a side table and grabbing a candle and lighting it. Once it was lit she grabbed it and ran to the burnt spot, tilting the candle to the wax fell in a pool at one spot of the floor. She'd glance up now and again at the closed door, her brow knitted anxiously. Hans didn't understand why his mother seemed so upset-it was just a silly carpet, wasn't it? They had plenty of them stored in the attic. He knew, since he'd climbed up there last week.

When there was an alright puddle Queen Helen set the candle down, still alight. She then stamped it out, squishing the paraffin in a gaudy circle as the wick continued to smoke. Hans started babbling in two-year-old talk that could only possibly make sense to his mother, but was ignored when King George stepped in.

The man's eyes widened. "Good God, Helen, what happened?!"

"The-the candle," Helen pointed down a bit, hand shaking as if she was startled. "I was napping in this chair when Hans woke me. The candle fell, i-it seems and...and burned the carpet. I just got it out." She moved her shoe, trying to scrap the hardened wax off the bottom fruitlessly. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

King George came over, looking down at the mess, then glancing over his wife and Hans. "You weren't much of a disturbance. Seems he was, though." He nodded to Hans, who tried to babble about what he could do, and even show him, but his mother gripped his waving hands. "He must of knocked it down."

"I doubt that." Helen said gently, stepping around the mess. "He saved my dress from getting caught aflame, as well as the rest of the carpet."

George paused before accepting the explanation and kissing her cheek. "I'll have some of the servants replace the carpet."

Helen nodded and walked with him out of the room. They parted in the hall, at which point she relinquished Hans's hands. The disgruntled child pouted at his mother. Helen moved on from the hall to a personal room of hers, off in a corner of the castle, the door hidden behind a red and gold tapestry. The room was entirely dark oak furniture and paneled walls with a black carpet. There were parallel bookshelves on each wall and a small window that overlooked the field behind the palace.

"Hans, Hans, Hans..." His mother fretted, sitting down in a leather seat with him in her lap. Hans smiled and clapped when hearing his name, glad someone was paying him attention. "My poor child. Your siblings barely know your name, and now..." She leaned back in her chair, cradling Hans as she stared at the ceiling. "Now you've got some sort of affliction. It couldn't be a curse, could it? No, no...you haven't been around anyone who could do that too you. Then again, what do I know? I barely see you anymore. You've grown...so much...just like all the boys."

She glanced at him and let him touch her face, kissing his little hands.

"I haven't paid any mind to you, have I? All I've done is read you Ferdinand, and only on _some_ Sundays. Oh, Lord. You could have burned down the house, or hurt yourself. Or your siblings. Your father-" She stopped, her breath caught in her throat. "What if your father had found you? What if you'd gone to him, instead of me? Oh heavens, he'd have you locked up. Or send you away or...Or something. He never cared much after the fifth boy. You poor children. And I'm not a very good mother, either."

Hans might have felt sorry for his mother, if he understood half of what she was saying. But he didn't. He did recognize the frown on her face, and tried to physically turn it into a smile, but it didn't work. She sat up, setting him in her lap so he faced her, and played with his hands. "No, no. Your father mustn't find out. We've got to keep this hidden, until we find out what's wrong. His temper couldn't handle something like this, you poor dear." She hugged him close, petting his head and looking out the window. "I'll keep you safe. I'll find out what's wrong with you-you'll be...you'll be just fine, my little Ferdinand. Just fine."


End file.
